


Floored

by Anonymous



Series: michael and jeremy get freaky and freakish things result [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bird/Human Hybrids, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, M/M, boyf riends - Freeform, egglaying, harpy shit, in which michael mell lays a fat one and i dont want to be associated with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jeremy and Michael are harpies. Jeremy lives at the base of a cliff, Michael doesn't. I go full ham on descriptive egg laying.Also: an anonymous work that very obviously belongs to me. If you ask my main about it I will fervently deny this story's existence.





	Floored

**Author's Note:**

> im super sorry.
> 
> but at the same time, first egglaying + be more chill work on the site, so points for originality?
> 
> part 2 will have just harpy banging if yaint into egg stuff.

"Are you sure this is fine?"

Michael has just about had it with this routine of breaking the nice silence with stupid repetitive comments, but he just nods with a heavy sigh and lays an arm over his chest above the bulge of his stomach and shuts his eyes again. "It's fine. Great."

"You sound irritable."

"I am irritable."

"Being pissed off does not a good baby-having time make, dude."

"Maybe it's not my fault."

Jeremy hisses and taps a talon against his lips, thinking about that for a second. "What can I do, then?"

"Back off?" A head lolls lazily in Jeremy's direction, but the scowl on his face is anything but calm. Sharp features accentuate the frustration on Michael's face.

"I'm just worried. Maybe this isn't the right place? Maybe you're locked? I know you don't, don't, uh -" He pauses to swallow his stuttering, "Want to fly up to the cliffs. But if you're not comfortable here, it won't happen, and..."

"It'll happen."

Jeremy perks up for a second.

"It's not _happening_ , I just mean it _will_  happen."

And he relaxes again.

"Are you su-"

"Jeremiah."

Jeremy rubs his face and groans and kicks his feet out. His home is humble but nice - a channel carved from the sandy rock. The entrance is small and covered with brush, leads into a five foot or so tunnel, and then opens up into a two-room cave. Notches along the walls hold firepits for light and warmth. Cloth bags of furs and plants line the walls - ladders made of twigs lead up to the high-hanging stoves in the sandstone, kept at least ten feet high to keep stray arms or wings out of the flames. Burning the wood of the nearby steely-trees makes the heat almost unbearable without a great distance, anyway. 

Michael's nest, Jeremy's found out after a few trips, is much airier, open, and warmed by the sun. The rock stays hot all through the short, mellow winter and similarly through the nights after the sun beats down on it for the daylight hours, making his outdoor lifestyle more bearable. Things are soft, covered in feathers and pelt. No cactus, no tight tunnels to squeeze through, no cold stone if the fires pitter out in the night, no worries of snakes or spitters or rats scurrying in to find warmth or food.

Which is why he has a hard time believing that Michael would rather lay their spawn here than up on top of the cliffs in his own home - despite the journey being somewhat inconvenient and dangerous, what with the obviousness of his readiness - his cloacal feathers puffed, stomach bulging, and face pallid and his hormones bustling - but he wouldn't lay without a suitable environment, anyway. Jeremy still has half a mind believing they would make it.

He feels guilty, making Michael lay in such a situation, even if he personally is very fond of his home.

He purses his lips together, watching closely as Michael sits up from his place on the nest of furs and bushels they've gathered. He pulls his coat off of his frame and wiggles his wings out of the tangles of strips of leather draped over his back. His skin, where not dotted with goosebumps and feather nodes, is slick with sweat and flushed.

Jeremy leans forehead and puts a hand on Michael's far shoulder. His mate doesn't seem to mind it _too_ badly.

In fact, Michael enjoys the comforting touch better than he does the incessant whining. He churrs and leans into Jeremy - he can tell that the air is slightly chilly, but his body is hot. Waves of sweat and heat pour over him.

He's been feeling it for a while now - it was a mistake to come down here to see Jeremy in the first place, so far along, but it was only a three-day trip and he wasn't going to let Jeremy miss _this_. Instead of taking Jeremy back to his colony to witness the laying of their eggs, his body ended up flooring him right here.

He sighs and waves a wing to create a little bit of a breeze for himself as Jeremy looks on anxiously, knowing that it's preparation to warm a newly laid brood, one that's used to being held in the body-temperature warmth of Michael's duct.

"Jeremy, Jeremy, hey. Chill out."

A shiver shudders through Jeremy and he pulls closer. Michael has always been a sort of a source of comfort for him, even now, when he should be comforting the other. Michael pulls gentle fingers through Jeremy's fluff, playing with his locks. "Sorry. I don't mean to be a dick or anything, I promise." He snorts and rolls his eyes, bumping him with his forehead. Michael is an awkward amount of damp, but Jeremy doesn't say anything - Michael's held his clammy hands plenty of times. He can try to deal with his sweaty hairline for a minute. He lets a smile slip past his lips onto his face and Michael mirrors him, the same lopsided little grin. Whether Michael learned it from him or he learned it from Michael or it's some sort of cosmic coincidence that they both have the same anxious undedicated raise of the lips.

Then again it may not be so crazy, considering they had already concluded it was a coincidence that said lips fit together so nicely.

Jeremy takes a deep breath and runs a hand down Michael's back. It causes a shiver and his tail feathers to perk. Normally it may cause his cloacal feathers to rise as well, but they're already shamelessly flaunting their stuff. It was embarrassing at first, but Jeremy's seen it before, so it's not that big of a deal. He is, however, a little worried about the entire process it's foreshadowing, and how that may effect Jeremy and his opinion on his sensitive bits. He can't imagine that it's a pretty sight once things get rolling.

The eggs he holds are still sitting comfortably with minimal cramping in his hybridistic 'womb'. Really, there's little semblance to a human womb, being that it's more of an oviduct, but the membrane keeping the masses from passing is still intact. For now. The jolts of muscle movement have been trying their best to dislodge it.

In order to keep it intact for the last few weeks, he's taken up the habit of cradling the underside of his swell with a hand whenever he makes a sudden or repetitive movement, such as walking, flapping, laughing. It's not necessary now, of course, considering it would be in his best interest to let nature take the reigns, but when he shuffles to kneel and pull his arms around Jeremy's middle, he feels a sudden urge for support and curls an arm under himself, resulting in an awkward half of a hug.

Jeremy gives a warm chuckle and presses their lips together.

He's comfortable. He's very comfortable. As much as he had hated Jeremy's primitive living quarters at first, they now feel... warm, and protected, and they smell like Jeremy and his nervous sweat and his natural musk and it reminds him of the weird, swift movement that his mate makes to preen a wing as a nervous tic after a joke strikes a chord with him. It's a triumphant smell, and an amused one, and -

There's a timely surge of tight ache like a belt from lower back around to the front of his pelvis.

Jeremy must feel his sudden stiffness because he kneads a knuckle into the small of his back. It reduces the pain almost immediately and has Michael slumping against his shoulder, face in his neck.

"...Okay, I kind of believe you." Jeremy mumbles with a hint of amusement, rubbing in circles against the nerve in his back that dulls the cramping in his middle. Michael nods weakly and presses a kiss to his ridge of feathers about his collar.

"Knew you would have to eventually, whether it be now or later when I'm ruining your bed."

Jeremy huffs, "Don't remind me, I'll make you lay on the ground."

"Think of the children, Jeremy."

There's another little chuckle. Jeremy swaddles the curve of Michael's lower back, and Michael raises his wings to accommodate. The knuckle's calming effect begins to decline, predictably, but he tries not to show it.

He must not do a very good job of it because Jeremy is sitting back and looking him worriedly in the face, a frown wobbling on his lips and his eyebrows trained down into a v shape. Michael manages a weak smile. It doesn't placate his mate at all.

The ache wears down without any nasty side effects soon enough. By the time Jeremy is comfortable with the regularity of the surges of activity, it's about time for him to be stoking fires back up so he leaves Michael to his own devices. It's a little easier to be exploring without Jeremy hovering over him - a little less awkward feeling to pull a palm over the underside of his stomach against his mound and feel around against the bulge, upwards. There are familiar round shapes under his clammy skin, just two, but each large - only one would fit in his hands at once, much like it'd be difficult to hold two human children in a pair of palms. One rounds out, narrowed, down toward his pelvis. It freaks him out a little, but it freaks him out more when his muscles contract and he can _feel_  the movement under his palm.

(If the pain hadn't screamed "this is real" beforehand, this certainly brought it to light.) 

It doesn't help that, in a grotesque, slimy, but very subtle sort of fashion, the plug to his oviduct slips from its place and, with an instinctive and reflexive shove, emerges as a small wet spot around his pelvic feathers.

Okay he is _this_  goddamn close to flipping out but instead of totally losing his shit, he holds his stomach, sits up into a half-upright position, and peers at Jeremy's lithe form, wings open slightly, as he stokes the room's fire. Light seeps between the bricks of the stove and if there's warmth spilling to the ground he can't tell, being that he's in a constant state of hellfire and freezing sweat sticking his feathers to his wings and his hair to his face.

He looks up at Jeremy's form - his wings out slightly for balance, his sleek feathers laid down, having finally relaxed. A twinge of guilt hits him, but that twisting in his stomach reminds him of the fact that the seat of his pants are kind of slimy right now and that Jeremy can _probably_  handle this.

He chirps and clucks and Jeremy, without missing a beat, repeats the sound identically and turns to look, worriedly, at him.

It's their sound. Most mated pairs have one. It's a remnant from before spoken language, but it's romantic and convenient. Given context, it can mean "I'm nervous", "I'm excited", "I love you", "I'm hurt", "I'm over here", "I'm aroused", "I need you", et cetera. 

Right now the translated exchange is as follows:

"HOLY SHIT."

"I'll be right there, I promise, don't freak out."

And then Jeremy takes his time carefully slinking down the ladder and padding his way over. He sits and adjusts the cushioning, idly, under Michael's body. Michael's flushed, embarrassed, but this is happening god dammit and he's not going to be anxious the _whole_  time. Okay.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself and Jeremy squawks and freaks out.

"Nononono, don't - ... _push_  yet, I still have to -"

"I'm not! I'm not. Trust me. You would know if I was." Jeremy stills for a second and then huffs a laugh, a tight and anxious laugh, and lowers his hackles just a little.

"Um." He sort of gestures for Michael to explain the urgency in lieu of the new information recieved.

"I just, should probably, cover up instead of - you know, wearing these."

"Oh! Shoot. Yeah, here, I'll..."

Jeremy moves to sort of straddle him and he would argue that he can take off his own stupid pants but his mate is already doing it without so much as making a face or flinching or anything. God he loves Jeremy so much.

His mate gently nudges Michael's knees apart and purses his lips, examining the damage so far, even as shyly as the other presents.

The feathers just under his stomach were enough of a clue that his pubic feathers would be puffy, but he hadn't really expected everything to be all hanging out. The entire opening, sort of a slit between his legs with few folds and only one true passage, is exposed, and being held open. Not as much as it stays opened after they have sex, but slightly, like something's irritating the skin and there's swelling, or something. The plug that had come out was followed - or maybe preceeded? By enough fluid to coat Michael's lips and feathers, making them clump together.

The muscles shudder and so do Michael's thighs and, when Jeremy looks up, his mate's head is tilted back and his jaw is tightened. He lays a gentle hand on the swell of his stomach and shushes him to the best of his ability.

"Hey - hey, Michael."

Michael manages to lift his head and stare at him, frustrated once again.

"...Um." There's a lot he wants to say but this isn't about him right now so he just sucks it up and spits out what he finds appropriate - "I love you. And I'm right here. And. No matter what happens, I still think you're cute, and great, and whatever, and I'm not going to leave."

Michael stares.

"...You,"

He blinks. Something swells in Jeremy's chest.

"How old are you, Jeremy, because you sound like you just got your big boy feathers."

Jeremy snorts and pats Michael's knee, rolling his eyes. "Shut up, I'm trying to make you feel better about shoving my offspring out of your naughty bits."

Michael laughs and reaches to take Jeremy's hand in his. Jeremy leans forward, over him, to kiss him - which subsequently also makes Michael spread his legs a little further, which is a bonus. He kisses him for a little bit, feeling the warmth radiate off of Michael against his chest and his stomach and his legs. He's so warm, it's blissful, it's such a nice, maternal sort of comfort that he finds himself sighing and relaxing against him until he's headbutted in the face.

He snaps out of it almost immediately and, just as quickly, begins to panic. Again. He's panicked about less in the past, honestly, so Michael doesn't pay it a whole lot of mind. Michael, instead, focuses more on the ache spreading up his wings as things shift and pull on his insides. He whimpers and twists into himself - or, as well as he can manage, with Jeremy holding his legs apart.

"Um, maybe, sit up a little?"

Michael squawks in disobedience and Jeremy frowns and instead focuses on what he _can_ force Michael to do. He runs careful fingers down his thighs, comforting him, keeping him open, and taking deep breaths very obviously - hoping subconsciously Michael will mimic. And, being a creature of imitation already, it works. Michael, through his sputtering and squeaking, pulls a long breath in through his nose and then out with a shake, a sigh, and tries again. His chest swells and falls, and Jeremy is content with the small probability of his mate just passing out.

"See? Better." No reply. "Michael." 

"Yeah, better." he agrees, hurriedly, and then lets out a frustrated noise and whimpers.

"Why won't this one _e_ _nd_?"

"Uh..."

Jeremy runs over the possibilities in his head and suddenly wishes they were up on the cliffs or in the treetops with a nestmaid for assistance.

"Mmmmaybe, you should, just this once, try to push?"

"You just said _not_  to."

"I know! I don't know what I'm doing!"

"That's _reassuring_!"

Evidently it's a compelling argument, though, because Michael's heels plant in the nest and he rolls his shoulders back and spreads his knees and _pushes_  hard. Hard enough that Jeremy can not only see the strain on his face, but the muscles around his cloaca twitch uselessly. It doesn't appear, from the outside, to have done much, but Michael can feel his inner muscles clench around something hard and solid, ungiving, and there's a harsh pressure on something deep inside him that makes his feathers stand on end and his throat open to let forth a string of curses. He tries to maintain the push long enough to relieve himself of the pressure, but he has to stop to suck in a breath and he can feel the sickly sensation of his progress being undone as the egg slowly moves back into its preferred position - way up inside of him.

"Are - are you okay?" Jeremy's voice pierces through his veil of purposefully breathing and thinking and breathing and - he perks up a little, swallows, and nods.

"Yeah, it's, it's working, I just need -..." he's not sure if that's true. He just used all his might and it feels now like he's made not in inch of progress, but Jeremy doesn't need him to get negative right now. "I need a minute."

"Okay. Okay, that's fine, don't overwork yourself, if you need anything else, let me know, I'm taking care of you. Remember?" He combs talons through Michael's hair and his mate can't help but smile sweetly at the touch.

"I think by definition, when giving birth, you kind of always overwork yourself."

"But not, like, to death, is what I'm saying."

"I'm not going to _die_ , Jeremy."

As he says this he starts to be grateful for how smoothly things appear to be going.

As soon as he catches his breath and feels the need unfold in his abdomen he pushes Jeremy away and gives the stubborn egg another shove, this one preceeded by some short, shallow breaths. He's able to hold longer this time. Inside he can feel the mass moving, slowly, so slowly he almost can't tell that it's moving, but the growing discomfort near the opening of his cloaca tells him it's most definitely coming. He learns quickly that he can take in a shaky and shallow breath without unclenching his muscles and uses this to his advantage.

There's a drop and a sharp pain and the egg is now, fully, in the passage of his cloaca and not at all in his duct.

This is where he could become locked. This is where he could go septic and die and Jeremy would be left with no one. No offspring, no mate, and to boot he'd be without a lot of his nice blankets, too.

Maybe he's hormonal, but the thought strikes some feat in him, which reminds him that he shouldn't stress, which stresses him out.

He wails when he starts to push again because now it's not a hot ache under the surface, it's a pulling and tearing, white-hot pain that stretches him open. It's so startling at first that he stops right away and pants, eyes almost comically wide. Jeremy would have laughed, in any other situation.

"Michael?"

"It just, it hurts, can you..."

Jeremy checks, with gentle fingers, looking to see if he can spot the egg.

"No, not yet." 

"Fuck."

"Language, Michael."

He looks Jeremy's innocently smiling face right in the smug eye and, loudly, " _Fuck_."

Jeremy chuckles, nervously.

"Okay, uh - I'll let you say the fuck word all you want if you sit up higher." 

It's so tempting of an offer (not) that Michael rolls his eyes and, with great effort, hauls himself up so he's more sitting than laying, but his cloaca is still clear of the floor.

The change in position leaves the first egg pressing hard against his entrance and in constant throbbing pain. He gasps and whines, and when he's met with no comfort, he begrudgingly offers Jeremy a meek push to show him that he's trying, dammit!

Jeremy's eyebrows raise.

"What?"

"Keep going."

Michael blinks but when a wave hits him he can't argue, his body clenching without warning. A cry escapes his throat - he lifts his hips off the nest as he feels the pressure nearer his entrance, feels fluid flow and pool between the lips of his cloaca. One of Jeremy's hands meets his crotch and he's mildly confused until he can start to feel the object touching his sensitive lips. Even when he stops pushing as hard, the egg still, insistently, slips from his body into Jeremy's palm.

He lowers himself back onto the nest and sobs.

Jeremy shushes him, setting the first egg against his thigh - letting him feel its presence and its permanence against his body, hot and slick, while he expels some of the buffer between the two.

Jeremy leans into him and kisses his sweat-lined chin, then his lips, and pushes away tears with his thumb.

"Shhh, shh, shhh, Michael. Mikey. Hey, it's okay." He makes their noise and Michael sniffles, gives an exhausted laugh, and repeats it back to him. "See, it's okay." Jeremy smiles against his lips, "You're not bleeding very much, and the egg is fine, and you're fine, and I'm fine. Last one will be so easy."

Michael doesn't necessarily want to think about the next one, but he is glad to hear that he's, in all likelihood, not going to _die_. Of course he wasn't. Duh. He squeezes the last of his tears from his eyes, sniffles, and chuckles, pulling an arm around Jeremy.

"...Still fat, though." he mutters into Jeremy's neck. His mate runs a palm down his swollen stomach and shrugs.

"...Kinda cute." He warbles, smooching his jaw. Michael is very obviously not in the mood (nor should Jeremy, logically, but he's found that Jeremy can be horny at any and all times) and laughs, shoves him away.

 Over the next few minutes, Michael finds himself feeling much better. After doting over the egg for a little while (which is slightly bigger than he had expected and honestly? It makes him feel very proud) he goes outside. He and Jeremy get some air, considering he shouldn't be incubating yet, and Michael gets to cool down with the chilly early morning air. He stretches his wings, dries his sweat and relieves himself more than a few times before his fingers start to get cold and he decides not to be outside half naked any longer.

He wanders back inside to find Jeremy being careful not to get too close, but sitting near and touching their egg - cooing lightly and stroking its surface, making _their_  chirp over and over again, making idle baby-talk chatter with his big, dumb lovey-dovey eyes on. Michael chuckles and sits beside him, resting a hand on his stomach, the other over Jeremy's back, holding him close.

Jeremy stops and focuses all his attention on Michael instead, preening the feathers around his collar and shoulders and base of his wings where he can't very well reach himself - occasionally planting a kiss on his skin while he's at it. It's calming and leads his mate into a shallow state of sleep, even as the sun rises. The cave stays cold even as the sun floods the clifftops with warmth, which normally sucks, but right now, being so close to Jeremy and being heated for incubation, Michael is enjoying the cool atmosphere.

Jeremy makes him food late in the morning after sheepishly realizing neither of them had eaten. Despite his protests, Michael is made to indulge in the same sorts of strictly regulated foods as he has for the past few months - mostly protein- and calcium-rich. ...But this time Jeremy slips in some fruit with crude brown crystal sugar sprinkled over it and of course, being deprived of unhealthy foods, that's the only part Michael actually eats.

They chat idly throughout the day about anything except the fact that there's still more to worry over.


End file.
